The Consequences
by The Scorpion
Summary: What if...Christine was a bad little ingenue one day and Erik got REALLY pissed off? A short phic that explores the extreme side of dark and frightening aspects when our phavorite Phantom gets reeeeeeeally angry, loses his temper...and snaps!
1. The Mistake and the Lie

Note: My friend and I were in an experimental mood one day and thought up a storyline in which Christine just reeeeeeeeeally pisses off Erik and he shows his violent side. That is the whole premise of this story. So to all you lovers of the kind, gentle, pansy side of Erik: be warned. This story is purely an experiment with an extreme. I wouldn't say it's out of character or impossible, but yes, definitely an extreme... Thank you to The Grasshopper who RPed the role of Christine in this for me.

Have fun!

* * *

**The Consequences**

**The Mistake and the Lie**

To tell the truth, Christine had been seeing Raoul in secret every day. They kept their rendezvous secret, of course, because if anyone knew, Erik would know. The Phantom was the eyes and ears of the walls of the Opera. It was really very foolish for the two lovers to attempt to meet at all, but ever since Christine had learnt the horrible truth about her angel, Raoul had come to mean a lot more to her. And so far, at least, it seemed they had been successful in keeping their secret. It was not easy, of course; though Erik had been preoccupied lately and Christine was, at this point, in full possession of his trust, the ghost was unpredictable, and even though she and Raoul had devised a regular schedule in which they could safely see each other, it was very often subject to sudden alterations.

It was the need of one such alteration that began this horrifying encounter.

Christine had just returned to her dressing room from an ever-so lovely winter afternoon in the park with her beloved viscount when she remembered, too late to call after him, that she would not be able to meet him until after the performance tomorrow. Erik was coming for her tonight and she had a feeling she would not return to the world above ground until it was just time to change into her costume and apply her makeup. Erik did like to keep her as long as possible when he could...When he was not too busy with all of those important duties.

Actually, Erik would be coming to call her with his enchanted voice at any moment and there was no time to spare. Christine quickly penned a note in which she informed Raoul of the change of plans, gave him all of her love, and wrote her signature of candy hearts (not for the first time) as "Christine de Chagny." It was a sweet jest of affection between the two which she knew would make Raoul smile when he read it.

She then folded letter and sealed it with an invisible kiss, but as she did, remembered the ruby of Raoul's ring on her wedding finger. Yes, she had promised Erik to always wear the plain gold band he had given her, but during her sun and snow filled hours with Raoul, she religiously took the viscount's engagement ring from where she usually hid it on the chain of her crucifix necklace and exchanged it for Erik's on her finger. It was now time to switch the places of the two rings back to where her dark master would have them be. She did this mechanically, without paying the exchange any attention at all, while simultaneously rising to go out of the room and send for a messenger. However, because she was so rushed and distracted, she ended up only accidentally restringing Erik's ring onto the chain and putting Raoul's back on to her finger. But she did not realize she had done this at all.

She allowed herself one moment's pause to force the blush from her cheeks and invite calm into her shaking hands before she reached for the doorknob. It was only thanks to this brief pause that Erik was able to just catch her before she would have successfully left.

He had emerged from the dark roads to the area behind the two-way mirror of the dressing room, the place from which he always viewed his star pupil, and knew that even he himself had arrived late. He saw her right hand turn the doorknob and instantly wondered if she was leaving because he had not been there, so, therefore, he called to her quickly before she could go, speaking even before he touched the mechanism to operate the magic glass. His voice pierced through the walls, straight to her side, "Angel..."

Christine froze. The voice did not startle her, but it made her stop all the same...She slowly turned from the door and, at the same time, folded her left hand over the note she held. She looked directly into the mirror and did her best not to reveal agitation at her inability to complete her task. Her voice was very soft and only stated the obvious:

"I am here, Erik."

The mirror slowly and silently revolved open and the eyes behind the mask of the Phantom looked up from the pale light of the dark lantern on the other side. He extended a hand to her, beckoning her to him from across the room.

"I beg your forgiveness..."

He said it because he had been late, but Christine was not sure what he meant as she had not been there long and was not completely aware of the time. She looked a bit confused as she stepped forward obediently and took his hand. "For what...?"

He drew her close to him as the glass closed them off from the light while keeping his eyes on hers...If she had been leaving, then should she not know for what...? Erik found her confusion a bit odd...Perhaps, then, he thought, she had not been leaving because he was late...So why then had she been going from the room?

"Were you going somewhere?"

Christine looked up at him, taking a brief moment to realize the mistake she had made. She shook her head slowly and spoke hesitantly as she concocted the first excuse that came to mind. "Nowhere of importance, Erik...Only quickly to go...speak to Meg..." She bit her lip. "I have not seen her in a few days..."

Erik looked at her for a moment in silent uncertainty, then let go of her hand and started to lead down the communard's road in direction of his domain. "To speak to Mlle. Giry? At the hour I was to come for you?"

"It was only for a moment..." Christine tried to think quickly as she followed habitually behind him. "Of great importance to her. I did not think it would take long...I am truly sorry..." Christine was, by nature, a horribly incompetent liar...Though, ironically, she had found her skills of deception had been gaining new insight lately. But still, she held her breath in well-founded fear that he would not believe her.

Erik had no reason not to believe her, but he did find it indeed incredibly strange that Christine should want to run out to have a conversation with her girlfriend when she knew more than well that he, her guardian and instructor, would be waiting for her. He stopped walking and turned around to look at his protegee, holding up the lantern so that he could see the details of her angelically lovely face. "Perhaps you should like to go back and say your piece..." he offered, not utterly without suspicion (if only wrought by confusion). "If it is of such importance?"

She lifted her eyes to meet his while biting her tongue for a moment before shaking her head again. She spoke quietly and with less assurance this time, "No...That's all right...Thank you..."

Again, Erik found her response odd...He moved the lantern to shine a little more light on her face and looked at her for another long moment. A silence of wrought tension-And then he simply let the light lower, turned, and continued to lead down the black paths and steps towards his infamous underground lake.

Christine really did try not to sigh too loudly in relief as her interrogator appeared to be satisfied. She only hesitated very briefly then began to follow him again and was thankful that they continued their journey together without another word.

It was only after they were in the boat and Erik had pushed off from the moor and begun to row across the lake that he spoke again. He had taken note of how Christine clutched either side of the boat with both of her little white hands in a fervent grip and had since not let go. Before that, she had also hesitated strangely to take his hand when he offered her aid into the skiff. It was not the hesitation he was accustomed to of her repulsion of physical contact with him...But more along the lines of awkwardness...As if she was momentarily not sure which hand to use...

He asked her with genuine concern, "Is there something weighing on your mind, Christine?"

She turned her eyes quickly to him from where they had been looking out over the water. "Oh...No, Erik...I'm just a little tired...I think that...I may...I would like to lie down for a while...once we arrive." She realized how tense she must appear to him and relaxed one of her hands...But not the one that still clutched her note.

Of course, on Erik's part, logical thinking concluded that something must have happened, one way or another, to make her unusually tired. "Tired?" He sincerely hoped she was not falling ill.

Already Christine was hating having to make up more lies against lies, but she could not think of any other way... "Rehearsal...It's been a bit exhausting lately; that's all."

It did make sense to Erik...Although... "You did very well today."

Christine instantly realized the compliment meant that Erik had been watching. She had to advert her eyes, but managed a faint smile and responded with words that were spoken with only a bit of a tremble, "...Thank you..."

She was not quite sure of just what Erik had seen during the rehearsals today...She knew well enough that there was always a chance he was watching her regardless of where she was...But she had to take that chance...Raoul had to take that chance...If they wanted to see each other...It just was the only way.

"Of course...Though I am not the only one who thought so, am I, Christine?" The question was provoking but still as calm as the leaden waters he continued to row across as they spoke.

Christine looked back to him again, and asked slowly with attempted innocence as she felt her heart give an uneasy lurch, "What do you mean?"

Erik's eyes leveled with hers. "I think you know what I mean."

She lowered her eyes quickly and did not speak a word. She did not know how to respond as she was not sure how much he might have it have been he noticed Raoul in the Opera and only assumed the viscount had watched the rehearsal? Or did he happen to see the titanic bouquet of flowers that had greeted her afterwards? Or was it as bad as the chance that Erik may have seen her leave or arrive with Raoul since then? She knew Erik could not know or suspect anything too drastic as he did not seem at all upset...It was more of a chastising tone of vague warning in which he was speaking...But either way, Christine was certain it was Raoul who he meant.

Erik moored the boat on the edge of the lake once they had reached their destination and continued to speak in the same tone. "I have given to you my trust, Christine. Perhaps you do not comprehend the greatness of such a gesture on my part, but the effort on your part to keep it should really be a much simpler feat." He did not actually suspect her of anything reproachable...But he did think she could be trying a bit harder to assure him of her devotion to him. It was true that he could not expect the piousness that she had for him when he had first taught her, but considering the power he still held, he did not feel he had to accept much less.

Christine stood and moved to get out of the boat quickly. She only nodded obediently in reply simply because she was terrified of saying anything else at the moment. Her whole consciousness was now focused on one goal alone: To get inside Erik's hidden home and to dispose of the treacherous note that felt as if it was burning a revealing hole straight through her clenched and trembling left fist.

Erik finished tying the knot of rope and turned around to focus directly on her. "Do you understand my meaning, Christine?"

She stopped where she stood and looked up at him, then away again immediately when she saw how he was watching her. "Yes, Erik. Of course..."

He moved over to her and, oh so barely touching her, turned her face back to look at him and studied her sea blue eyes, searching there for honesty. She had no choice but to look at him now. Her eyes were wider then ever usual as she tried to look convincing. She did her best to use her puzzlement and confusion to mask her regret and paranoia of discovery. But she could not meet his gaze for long and lowered her gaze soon enough.

Erik was, of course, meticulously evaluating every single minuscule detail of her behavior. He kept the tone of his voice even and unthreatening, yet did not hide the nuance of implication. "I would not want to ever think that you had betrayed my trust, Christine. And I am sure you would not ever want me to think that."

He was continuing to be the perfect gentleman as usual, so the only thing that could explain the fact that Christine now started to actually become tangibly afraid was her guilty conscience.

She shook her head in denial, but her breath had begun to shake just a little as it puffed into the cold lakeside air. "Please...Erik...May I go inside?..."

It was then that Erik's eyes narrowed. He stepped aside as the hidden door in the wall opened behind him. And this time his words had thorns:

"But of course, my dear. Simply dreadful of me to keep you out of doors."


	2. The Suspicion and the Ring

  
  
The Suspicion and the Ring

As Christine passed inside through the lavish entryway to Erik's eccentrically decorated home, she felt as if she were about ready to pass into death for relief. Now that she was here, it was only a matter of getting away from Erik's raptor sight long enough to hide the note someplace until she had more time to dispose of it completely. She stopped only across the carpet from the door to the Louis-Philippe room and began to unfasten the dark blue cloak from around her shoulders. She planned to go straight inside the bedchambers as soon as she was able to successfully exempt herself.  
  
Erik followed her into the parlor and took the cloak from her shoulders as she untied it. She forced herself not to shiver as he did, but really was too distracted to much mind his provoking touch. She caught her breath and then broke the silence, saying quietly, "Thank you...Would you excuse me, Erik? I really think I need to...rest for...just for a few minutes..."  
  
He moved around in front of her so that he came between her and the direct path to room that had come to be hers. "But of course...Is there anything I might get for you before you retire?"  
  
She was startled briefly and stopped again, not yet attempting to move around him. "N-no...That's all right...I just want to...go to bed..."  
  
Erik was now absolutely suspicious of Christine's behavior. "Something is wrong..."  
  
She shook her head quickly and thrust both of her hands behind her back. "No, nothing..."  
  
He took a contemplative step toward her. "You are...hiding something..."  
  
She stepped back as he moved closer and began to feel herself become irrationally desperate. "Erik, please! I just want...to...go to bed..."  
  
He tilted his head slightly to the side as he studied her. He was really a bit hurt by the way she was responding to him. He spoke sensitively, "Christine...You know there is nothing you should feel the need to hide from me..."  
  
She answered quickly, wanting nothing more than to convince him so that he would let her go within. "I know, Erik. I'm not hiding anything..." Her words did sound believable and sympathetic enough to Erik's wounded tone, but her hands remained very noticeably concealed behind her back.  
  
He stepped toward her again, closing the distance she had created, until they were very close to each other. He did not take his eyes from hers as he lifted a hand and tenderly traced an outline of air against the side of her face and said, "Of course you're not...You know better than that...You know that there is nothing you would be able to keep from me...There is nothing I do not know..."  
  
Christine's entire frame began to subtly shake as he spoke those last words. Her lips and hands trembled, and she could only nod as her eyes slowly started to fill with warm tears. "Yes...Yes, I know..."  
  
Erik's long, fine fingers stroked the air against her cheek until they had played down to her throat, and then--then he laid his hand delicately against the soft curls of hair at the side of her neck. "But now you're going to cry..." he spoke in a tenderness that was dubiously heartfelt. "Why are you going to cry, Christine?"  
  
She answered softly, not even trying to make the effort to hide the fact that her voice was trembling just as much as her body now. "Only because I am tired, and I...I'm tired, Erik..."  
  
His words then came out in a breath that was something between a whisper and a hiss, and his eyes narrowed once more behind the slits of his mask. "Yes...I am sure you are very tired, Christine...After all, you have been so very busy, haven't you?" He let his fingers slide through the flaxen curls of her hair and slip around the back of her neck to the top of the collar of her dress where he could feel the fine links of the chain of her necklace just under the smooth cloth.  
  
In a rush of heated panic, Christine stepped back quickly, away from his touch, and her right hand immediately rose in a protective gesture to where the chain fell against her chest. She stared at Erik for a moment with fearful eyes. "I...I have not! But...I..." Breaking off then, completely overwhelmed by the intimidation and absolutely unable to bear his menacing presence a moment longer, Christine turned and darted to flee to the safety beyond the door to her bedroom.  
  
He caught her easily by the left arm before she could get far and cut in sardonically, "One more moment, I beg of you, my dear."  
  
Only on first impulse did she try to pull back her arm; but she was beginning to give into futility and did not put any true effort into freeing it. She looked back up at him and spoke as bravely as possible, "Yes, Erik?"  
  
He let his hand slide—so very slowly—down the bare skin of her tapered limb...Until it came to rest where his fingers wrapped around her wrist and lithely lifted her clenched hand. The little ovals of her fingernails were deathly white from the pressure of how tightly she gripped the thin paper that she had since folded into such a tiny, concealable square. Its tissue corners dug into the hidden part of her palm, and it must have been completely soaked through with the clamminess of her dread by now. But amazingly (at least, so she thought for the moment) Erik made no move to unfurl her fingers or even so much as look at them.  
  
Instead, he began to speak again as his hand gave no inclination of moving from where it held her wrist and his eyes did not leave hers. "I have seen many things in my life, Christine, but I must say, this is the first time I have ever witnessed the spontaneous growth of an additional ornament to an inanimate object." He turned her hand over so that he had a painfully direct view of its back and fair knuckles. And then he looked down—down at the sinful, sparkling ruby that adorned the otherwise simple gold band of Raoul's ring on her bridal finger. "Amazing."  
  
She was stunned; but only for a moment before she tried to draw her hand from his grip. Her eyes flitted from the wicked stone back up to him in absolute terror. Her words were spoken like desperate demands, "I just want to go in my room, Erik! Please let me go!..."  
  
He released her without protest as she pulled away from him. "Yes. Do go to your room. After all, this house is yours. I told you that, Christine. I've told you that everything I have is yours. Everything. So long as you remain mine. But, my dear, dear Christine, you haven't done that, have you? Could it be that you have been unfaithful to me?"  
  
She moved back again towards the door in small steps, unable to sift through the confusion between the grace he allowed her and the threat he implied. "No, Erik, I haven't been unfaithful...! This...this is only a ring...It means nothing...I...I forgot I even had it...That's how unimportant it is!—I swear to you...I will explain...but...But after I have—" She felt her heel strike the frame of the door and turned quickly to grasp the handle—So quickly that she realized only an instant too late that her left hand had opened and the overtly wretched note was already set free to fall.

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	3. The Note and the Name

  
  
The Note and the Name

Erik's eyes followed Christine's note as it slowly dropped to the floor in the space between them, and then his gaze lifted again, even more slowly, back up to her.  
  
Her eyes had not moved from his actions in that long silence of bewildered horror...But as soon as he looked at her again, she snapped out of it and bent quickly to retrieve it. "It's something I have not...sent to Meg, yet..." She quickly and very tightly closed the paper in her hand.  
  
He took a couple measured steps towards her. "Oh, is it?"  
  
She moved back and pressed against the wood of the door. Her face flushed, but she kept her lie, continuing it as if her life depended on it as her shaking fingers searched backwards for the handle behind her. "Yes...That's all that it is, Erik!"  
  
"Then you won't mind if I read it."  
  
She turned the latch quickly and opened the door the smallest crack. "It's...It's a private note, Erik..."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure that it is, Christine. But, you see, the matter is that I don't believe you."  
  
"I'll let you see the note later, Erik, after I have...finished my nap...Please..." She opened the door further and began to inch inside.  
  
He laughed at her remark. "That arrangement would suit you, wouldn't it? For you will go inside, burn the note in your hand at the hearth, and then write another."  
  
"I would not deceive you that way, Erik!" she exclaimed in all irony...And then continued in a still bold but subtler tone. "My letters should rightfully remain my own..."  
  
"They should, should they? I would be more than obliged to concede to that consideration, my dear, but I'm afraid that is impossible when you so obviously are hiding something from me."  
  
"I am not hiding anything! Why do you always suspect I am hiding...something and that Raoul is part of it!" It was her mistake that she did not realize that Erik had not actually made a single specific reference to Raoul.  
  
But Erik did realize this. He outright glared at Christine then and started to move to her again with new purpose. "The guilty conscience speaks against the will of the mind. Give me the letter."  
  
She shook her head and once more thrust the letter behind the shelter of her back. Acting quickly, she began to unfold it with full intention of ripping it to shreds at that very moment. But it was madness for her to think that her deceiving hands were faster than Erik's! And in an instant, he had grabbed her and pulled her arms from behind her back, snatching the letter from her frantically clutching fingers. The swiftness of his actions were so abrupt that Christine fell to her knees before him, almost as if begging for mercy...Which, in a way, she knew she would soon be desperately needing...  
  
She implored him hurriedly, "Erik, it is only a friendly letter! I have not spoken to him in such a long while! I've missed him! I only wanted to see him for a bit..."  
  
He looked down at her in pained malice for a tense moment...And then leaned over her slowly and lifted up the letter to the side of her face as he glared straight into her eyes. "A friendly letter, is this?" He gently tapped the edge of the paper against her temple. "Well, we'll just have to see how friendly it is."  
  
She attempted to seize the note back from him as he touched her with it, while crying defiantly, "Don't read my letter, Erik! It is my letter!...Please...It says nothing but asks him to meet me! That's all it says!"  
  
Her efforts were made futile as he roughly grabbed the hand she was using to try and take the note. He used his grasp on her to pull her up to her feet again and did not release either the paper or her hand, but he said in a strangely reflexive tone, "All right. I won't read it."  
  
She looked at him guardedly and was unconvinced. She held out her free hand, though, and asked in hope, "May I have it back, then?"  
  
"No." He held it a bit further away from her and then started to pull her across the room toward his luscious black, leather chair that loomed near the extravagantly carved mantelpiece of the parlor hearth. He then pushed her down to sit in the chair with forceful authoritativeness. "I won't read it; but, you see, I do want to know what it says. So, my dear, you will read it to me."  
  
She stumbled a little as her foot caught the hem of her skirts as they twisted under her when she practically fell into the seat. She gazed up at him with glassy eyes, but somewhere in her subconscious, she was grateful to be able to sit down. She nodded obediently and held out her hand to him once more. "All right...I'll read it..."  
  
He ignored her gesture and turned up the flame of the oil lamp that stood on the ebony table next to her to its very brightest. Then he slowly and calculatingly unfolded the letter and held it out in the air before her at arm's length between himself and the light, and so that it was also a close enough distance to allow Christine to read it, but still too far away for her to easily reach it.  
  
"Go ahead, Christine. Word for word, if you would be so kind."  
  
She felt the skin on her cheeks becoming stiff as her earlier tears were beginning to dry in evaporating streaks. She stared at the paper for what seemed like infinity but could not have been more than a passing moment, and then she began to read. However, she most certainly did not read the letter 'word for word.' She attempted her best to leave out the parts that betrayed her true feelings for Raoul as well as those words that made it obvious that they had been meeting regularly...And, of course, she excluded the full version of her signature...  
  
"My..." She stopped and pressed her lips together, exhaling slowly, and then started again. "Dear Raoul...Please meet me tomorrow...at...at midnight, after the...Opera is over at the exit on..." She hesitated then for a long moment before continuing, "Love...Christine Daaé."  
  
Erik shook his head a little and said reprimandingly, "Well, I cannot very well expect you to do perfectly on the first rehearsal. Try it again."  
  
She shrank back into the dark creases of the chair and looked up at his stern figure behind the extended paper. "That is what it says..."  
  
He met her eyes threateningly. "Read it again. Read every word on this paper or I will do it myself."  
  
She lowered her eyes quickly and closed them for a moment. Then looking at the paper again, she began to read once more, repeating the note 'word for word' this time:  
  
"My...dearest...Raoul...Please meet me tomorrow at midnight...after the Opera is over at the exit on the rotunda side...again, instead of...at our...our...usual t-time and...and place. I...I had a lovely time...today, as I...as...as I do...every...every day we spend together...and...and...Until...until to-tomorrow...my...my darling... Love...Love...Love...Christine."  
  
Well...It was almost word for word...  
  
"Wrong. One last try." Erik's chilling voice caused Christine's clammy, heated fear to immediately develop into an incomparably icy terror.  
  
Her voice was only able to come out in a very small and strained sound by now, but she began again and this time did not dare omit or change a single mark of ink on the thin slip of paper...However, she was unable to prevent herself from stopping and hesitating many times in sickening anxiety as she forced her way through it for the last time...Word For Word.  
  
"My dearest...belov-beloved Raoul...Please meet me tomorrow at midnight, after the Opera is over...at the...the exit on the rotunda side again...instead...instead of at...our usual time and place. I had a...a lovely time today as I do...every...p-precious day we spend...to-to- together...and...and I...I miss you already...Until tomorrow...my...darling. Love...Christine...de Chagny."

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	4. The Nothing and the Reason

  
  
The Nothing and the Reason

Erik did not take his eyes from Christine. With quiet deliberateness, he drew the letter back and folded it in half, creasing it slowly. "Now why did you so desperately not want me to read this little note?"  
  
Christine's nails dug into the taught skin of the chair's arms. "I...I don't know..." A probing tilt of Erik's head made her add quickly, "I was afraid you would be angry with me..." She feared his anger for very obvious reasons. After all Erik had forbidden her to see Raoul at all, much less see him every day and send him affectionate notes in which she shamelessly referred to herself as his wife!  
  
"And why were you afraid I would be angry with you?" he asked in the same condescending tone.  
  
"Because...You told me never to see him..." Christine answered like a good pupil and silently prayed to God that he might only chastise her and tell her not to do it again.  
  
"Yes, I did, didn't I? I told you never to see him." It was then that Erik's voice commenced to change, and she began to realize the full extent of his acrimony and that this issue would not be over so easily by any means. "And yet, this letter of yours betrays you considerably, doesn't it? Not only do you see him on a regular basis, but also on a very close basis, it seems. And this, as you seem to think, would rightly make me very angry with you, wouldn't it?"  
  
She leaned forward and responded hastily in hopes that she might abate the descent into rage she feared she recognized too well in his rapidly darkening temper. "Erik, I never meant any harm! Raoul and I have only spoken! We have not done anything wrong at all...He is a dear friend, and I've missed him! I have only been seeing him! Surely there can be...nothing wrong...with that..."  
  
He sneered and crushed the letter viciously in his hand then started to advance towards where she was sitting. "A dear friend, is that right, Christine? Or perhaps, should I say, is it, Madame de Chagny?"  
  
She stood up quickly and moved around behind the hefty chair so that it stood as a great black obstacle in his way of her. She did not dare take her eyes from him as she defended herself desperately, "It was only a joke, Erik! Only a joke! We were only playing a game...It means nothing!—"  
  
"Nothing!" he exclaimed abruptly, cutting off however she might have continued her hopeless insistences. For the first time, the volume of his ensorcelling voice had risen. He stopped just in front of the chair, but did not yet make any move to go around to her side. "Perhaps 'nothing' is a joke to you, Christine, but do you know what it is to me?"  
  
The sudden change from Erik's cold, yet calm bitterness to this outburst directly filled Christine with a new sense of fear. She began to fear for herself. She continued to combat this sense, though, and tried to reason with him. "How can nothing be something to you, Erik, when it is nothing! I...I am only..." She only had no idea what to say to calm him. "...I have not...done anything...I have done nothing, Erik!"  
  
Her calming efforts did not work. "That's right, Christine. Nothing is Nothing. And you have done Nothing. Do you know what that Nothing feels like, Christine? Would you like to?"  
  
"No!" She shook her head frantically and took a step back from the chair. "No! Erik, you're frightening me!...Please..." She only took one more step back before her dread of the smoldering eyes that bored into hers caused her to turn away and run for the safety of the door to her room once more.  
  
He walked around the chair and followed her but with no apparent sense of urgency. "Please? Please, Madame de Chagny? You needn't beg! I shall be most obliged!"  
  
She moved away even faster, tripping around a table and upsetting a vase that rolled off to thud against the rich Persian carpet. In complete terror, she reached the door and pulled at its handle. If she had her full senses, she would have pushed. The door latched shut and she looked back over her shoulder to see him still coming after her. She cried in a petrified gasp, "Stop it, Erik! I haven't—It was only a note! Only a note!"  
  
He continued to walk at a steady pace, casually stepping over the vase. His words, however, were far from casually spoken as they both mocked her defense and inflated his fury, "Only a note! Only a note! Do you know what else is only a note, Madame de Chagny? An Epitaph!"  
  
Christine froze amid her second attempt to open the door. And then she turned and stared at him, shocked and disbelieving. "You wouldn't, Erik! Please tell me you wouldn't!"  
  
He stopped about six feet away from her and spread out his hands in a cynical gesture. "Wouldn't? Wouldn't? Wouldn't what, Madame de Chagny?"  
  
"You wouldn't hurt him..." She let go of the door handle and turned around completely. "He has done nothing! I have done nothing, Erik, but written him a letter!..."  
  
"You've done quite a bit more than that, I think. Words are one thing, wishes are another, and lies, Christine, lies and deception are something else entirely! And I—" His arms did not fall but both hands clenched tightly. "I would be very much obliged to make you the new Widow de Chagny!"  
  
Her reflexes caused her to take a step toward him. "Erik! You can't!" But she immediately regretted it, and losing her nerve, she stepped right back again. "Leave him alone...Please, leave him alone! There is no reason..."  
  
"Reason!" he shouted in an animalistic growl that set Christine's hair on end. "No reason!" The note reappeared in his hand too quickly for Christine to wonder where it had gone, and he shook it violently. "If this does not reveal reason enough, the ring on your finger more than does!"  
  
The crumpled paper then burst fiercely into flames between his fingers, and he hurled it across the space directly at Christine. She fell back and threw up her arms, but the letter burnt out and turned to ash that scattered to the floor before it reached her.  
  
Erik snarled in disgusted malice, "Now how would you like me to do the same to that ring?"

-----------------------------------


	5. The Harm and the Meaning

  
  
The Harm and the Meaning

Christine swiftly covered the ring on her finger with her other hand and recoiled from Erik in brutal horror. "No! But Erik—Erik, please! You have to understand that this is only something...something that I am wearing because he's...He is leaving soon, and—It is entirely a false pretense! There is no harm in it!"  
  
Erik started to move toward her again. The raging fury in his voice was gone and suddenly replaced by a deathly chill. "Oh, there is harm, Christine. There is a great deal of harm."  
  
Christine slowly began to sink further down against the wall and gasped in defense, "No—No..." She still dared not take her eyes from him.  
  
"I don't think you know the meaning of _'harm'_ Christine." He leaned over in front of her as she slowly lowered herself to the floor. "You can only go so far, you know, my dear. Any further down and you will reach Hell."  
  
She hid her face as he grew closer and turned as far away from him as she could. Her weeping voice was muffled behind her hands. "I know the meaning! I know it! Erik, please, I know it!"  
  
He kneeled down to the floor at her level, yet still managed to loom over her. Roughly, he pulled her hands away and pushed them down, then he grabbed her face with one hand and forced her to turn back to look at him. His voice was a low hiss. "Do you? Is that so? Then tell me, Christine. If this is not harm, what is? What is the worst you could do to me? What is the most you could hurt me? In the name of life and death, my most darling little angel, what is worse than betrayal? I would _love_ to hear your answer." Though her trembling was enough in itself to move her, he did not let her turn her face away from him the slightest fraction.  
  
"I...I don't...I don't know!" She forced out her hands to try and push his arm away. "Erik! I just want to go sleep! I want to sleep! I won't send Raoul the note anymore! I won't write a new one!"  
  
Without letting go of her chin, he easily grabbed both of her wrists together with his free hand and held them in a frozen grip. Gritting his teeth, he spoke through a sneer, "I'm certain you would love to sleep. I'm certain I know who you would love to have join you."  
  
Christine could not even register the terrific shock that jolted her from the harshness of Erik's words. She was only able to stare at him in disbelief with her mouth open and eyes wider than he had ever seen them.  
  
Her speechless reaction did not affect anything in Erik. "Oh, he will sleep, Christine. But not with you. No, never with you. He will join countless others in a much deeper sleep I am so fond of delivering."  
  
Christine was suddenly filled with the strength of panic and, immediately reanimated, she fought wildly to get away. "No! Erik, no! You won't hurt him! You can't!"  
  
He did not let her shift an inch. "But I can. So very easily. And with _so_ much pleasure."  
  
She stopped moving again and looked up at him with a new sense of abhorrence that made her feel she could coldly hate him for being so cruel. "You would kill him because I wrote him a harmless letter?"  
  
Not letting go of her wrists, he slid his other hand down from her face to her neck, and his long, icy fingers gripped around her throat. "You do know nothing of the meaning of harm."  
  
If it was possible, her eyes went even wider. She struggled against him then with all the energy she had left, as if for her life, and started to sob in pounding terror, gasping for breath amid choking tears.  
  
Erik ignored her crying and pressed the two hands he held to his chest over his heart while leaning down more closely over her. "You have not answered my question, Christine. If your letter was harmless, what would you consider harmful?"  
  
She could not think and did not know what he wanted her to say, so she gasped the first thing that came to her mind:  
  
"Death! Death is more harmful!"  
  
"Is it? And you don't think words such as yours in that letter kill me? Every syllable brings death closer to me. You are killing me, Christine. I ask so very little of you, but you continue to thrust daggers into my heart."  
  
"But they are just words, Erik! They mean nothing!" She could barely even focus anymore on his dark shape through her welling tears.  
  
Erik remained an unrelenting statue that only glared down at Christine and continued to hold her by the throat in his cold, stone grip. "But that's not true, Christine. You have spoken words far worse than those that were written. And do not think you can make me believe every word you've said to him meant nothing."  
  
Her eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to look up at him, but she could not make them clear, and they only set upon his mask with a glazed focus. She was stiff now; Past the point of struggling. It took her a long moment...But she began to speak...Quietly at first, but then with building argument and defensiveness, "No, they did not mean nothing...They meant...It meant..." Her voice lowered in volume even more... Something in her was afraid to say it, but she forced out the words regardless:  
  
"I love him! And you...You've no right to..." Her strength did not last long and she quickly trailed off into uncertain silence.  
  
Erik's eyes flashed dangerously, and his grip at her throat instantly tightened to a new level. He leaned down over her... Even closer. "No right? I should say I have a great deal of _right_, Christine! And _you_ are in _no_ position to object!"  
  
She drew her breath in quickly, afraid that this would be her last...But Erik's clutching fingers were not enough to cut off her air quite yet. All the same, the defiant fear in her eyes grew to stark terror that gave her new resolve to fight against him though with much less sensible movements this time. She screamed as loudly as she could manage, "Let me go! Let me go, Erik!"  
  
Erik was again unphased by her efforts, and instead of letting her go, he began to stand, lifting her up with him by the throat and where he held her hands. "No, Christine. I will _never_ let you go. You should know that well by now!"  
  
She stopped moving again as he dragged her back up against the wall, and she closed her eyes tightly so that she did not have to look at him. "But you will let me go back! After I sleep, you must let me go back..."  
  
He loosened his grip on her throat only a little once she was solid on her feet. "Not this time, Christine."  
  
Her eyes opened slowly and looked at him with stunned disbelief. "What...What do you mean...?"  
  
He let go of her hands and put his hand that he had used to hold hers against the wall by her head. "I mean that you aren't leaving. I can't trust you anymore, Christine."  
  
"You can trust me, Erik! I won't see him ever again; you can watch me send him a note...He's leaving, Erik! He's going to the North Pole! He has to leave soon...I will tell him to go...And he'll go...Please!"  
  
"How accommodating of you, Christine...You will do just about anything to get away from here, won't you?"  
  
That silenced her. She looked away quickly, turning only her eyes as she could not move her head, and though she said nothing, her steady weeping continued.  
  
He studied her intensely. "Yes, I think so...Anything to be with the man you _love_." He let go of her neck and put that hand on the wall next to the other side of her head, trapping her between his arms. "But you are not allowed to love him, Christine. I won't let you."  
  
She turned her head the moment he had released her. Her words choked and were caught in her throat, "I can't help it, Erik...I do love him...But if you ask it and leave me such a choice, I will send him away!"  
  
"No, you won't. You will only lie to me again."  
  
She shook her head vigorously. "I will not lie!"  
  
He stepped back from her just a little and removed his hands from the wall. "But don't you see, my dear? I can't take that chance."  
  
She let herself relax somewhat as he moved away, but it was not much considering what he had just said. "Erik, give me one more chance, please!"  
  
"No."  
  
Christine, so frustrated now, almost to the point of being angry herself, slowly sank back down to the floor again, her knees buckling beneath her. "I will still love him! And he will...He will love me, too!..."  
  
Erik stepped further back to have a better view of her...And then laughed. "You think so? You think it will be possible for him to still love you? I tell you, love does not exist where I will send him! I know, Christine! I know because I have been there!" Saying thus, he turned around and started in the direction of his own room where he had all he needed to fulfill any man's doom. "You will be quite alone in your love, Christine! Quite alone!"  
  
Christine saw where he was going and jumped to her feet to hurry after him. She knew that if he left her sight, it would mean he was gone and Raoul was as good as murdered. She cried desperately, "Erik, don't hurt him! He will cause no harm if I stay here, just leave him alone!"  
  
Erik stopped suddenly, after he had opened the door, but before passing inside. He did not move at all for a moment and then turned around sharply and glared down at her. "As appealing as that sounds, I don't think such an arrangement would be adequate punishment for your betrayal."  
  
"It is my betrayal! Do not let him suffer for it!" Without thinking twice of her actions, and in fraught need just to keep him there, she grabbed tight hold of one his arms with both her hands. "Erik, _please_! I am begging you!"  
  
The moment she laid hands on him, Erik jerked his arm back, pulling her past him, and flung her forward through the door of his room and sent her tumbling to the floor. He started in after her and closed off the door behind him, saying grimly, "I don't like beggars."

-------------------------------------------


	6. The Coffin and the View

**The Coffin and the View**

Christine had never liked Erik's room. The funeral hangings with their requiem notes that swathed the walls and the twisted metal candelabras that dripped dark wax into shimmering black pools in the warped dishes did not serve well to create an inviting atmosphere. The countless eyes of the mortuary figures that adorned the ominously colossal structure of the pipe organ covering the far wall scowled fiercely at Christine across the one object in this room that perhaps filled her with more horror than any other of Erik's morbid devices. Her eyes were locked on the coffin for only a moment...But it was a moment of such clarity that even as she scrambled back on the floor and turned away in choking, hysterical fear, she still saw so vividly before her, the blaze of the candles dancing like fiery demons off the polished ebony wood and the gruesome black shadows that lurked between each fold of blood red satin that lined the interior of that container of death.

Erik moved in behind her slowly and regarded the coffin, which was where he slept. "Yes, it's not a pretty sight is it? But it happens to us all. Imagine seeing your handsome, young Vicomte lying in a black box like that...Of course, the casket will probably have to be kept closed if he dies the way I have in mind."

Christine managed to stumble to her feet amid her sobs. Not one element within her could make her turn back to look at that coffin again. She had to get away! Out of this room as fast as she could! She made a hopeless dash for the door, but had to stop just as quickly as Erik moved to block her path. "No! Please!" she shrieked in absolute panic.

Erik was unrelenting. "Better to get used to it now, Christine!"

She fell down again to her knees in front of him, pleading, "Let me out! Erik, please! I want to sleep! Oh, God, please! Let me sleep! I don't want to be in here!"

Erik grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up again. "You shouldn't be in such a hurry to sleep, my dear! You never know which night it will be that you close your eyes and never open them again!" Though she sank heavily to the floor in her dread, he forced her to stay up and began to drag her back towards the coffin on its stepped platform.

She fought against him, twisting and pulling madly to try to free herself from his grip. All coherent thoughts had left her mind as she panicked and cried frantically, "No, no!"

His response only mocked her, "Yes, yes!" He pulled her up the steps and stopped then by the side of the coffin, holding her up firmly by both shoulders so that she could not turn away from it.

She shrank back against him and refused to look at it. Her knees were so weak that she was certain she would have fallen to the floor if he did not have hold of her. She begged only faintly now, "...Stop..."

"You shouldn't be so afraid of something like this, Christine. After all, it is only wood and satin...And there are so many more threatening things in this world to fear!" The way he emphasized that word 'threatening' sent crawling chills down Christine's back and shoulders where he touched her.

She did not answer for a prolonged moment as she trembled in his grip and her own hands covered her face. Finally, unable to stand there in silence while knowing the coffin lied only a few inches in front of her, she gathered the strength to speak shakily, "Please...Please can I go lie down now, Erik? I want to lie down...Please..."

He tightened his clench on her shoulders and spoke between gritted teeth. "Lie down? You want to lie down, Christine?"

She nodded quickly, not moving her hands from her face, and choked in an almost hoarse whisper, "Yes...Yes! Please...Please let me!"

Erik's answer was a furious roar: "Oh, I will do more than let you!" Suddenly, he pushed her to the coffin's edge, causing her to stumble against the side with a shriek, and then he pulled her up over it. "You may lie down all you please!" Then, he abruptly shoved her down with all his cruel force into the lushly lined box. "Lie down, Christine! Sleep for a while!"

The moment she realized what he was doing, she began to struggle again, pushing against him with all her strength and screaming through desperately terrified sobs, "No! No! Erik, no!"

"Yes, Christine! Oh, yes!" He pulled at her limbs to stretch her out and press her down to lie on her back, leaning down on her to effectively hold her there.

She continued to try and shove him away from her, trying to find any possible means to get around him and climb out. Her fingers twisted and clawed into his sleeves and the coffin's luxurious, soft inside. All words were lost to her now amid her growing, hysterical screams.

But he had made that death box inescapable to her. He held her down with an iron force and clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her panicking shrieks. "Hush, Christine. Lie still. Lie still and I won't put on the lid."

Christine froze. She had forgotten about the lid...It took her some time, but her gasping breath began to eventually subside into muted whimpers behind Erik's confining fingers. She closed her eyes tightly and the remaining tears behind her flooded lids pressed out to join the many others that flowed across her cheeks. But soon she rested as stilly as any appropriate corpse.

Only then, when he knew he had her under his control, did Erik stop holding her down by force, keeping only his hand over her mouth. He was then as still as she where he knelt alongside the coffin, and remained so, just leaning slightly over the side to watch her attentively.

Several very long minutes of silence passed between the two of them; the only sounds in the chamber were those of the soft, sizzling gasps of the black candles. But even with her eyes closed, Christine could feel him staring at her. She tried to maintain it so that the only thing in her mind now was the repeated prayer that he would let her go...But soon the overwhelming sense of his presence became impossible to ignore, and she finally found to courage to open her eyes...Though she did not look at him. She did not move at all. The fact that he was not forcing her to be there anymore, yet that she still remained in the coffin was almost even more terrifying, but she did not dare move. Her only hope was to remain very, very still...The echoing of her beating pulse, a slowly dying drum in her ears...

At last, he removed his hand from her mouth and quietly brushed the tears from her cheeks. He spoke in a tone that was far too soothing in contrast to before. "You see, Christine...It's not so terrible, is it? There is nothing inside to make you cry...It is what is outside that you should fear..."

Christine did not bat an eyelash and just stared blankly upwards...As if she had gone into some sort of shock.

He folded his arms on the lip of the coffin comfortably and looked down at her. "Everything you need is here, Christine. You never need to leave again."

She remained perfectly still. She could not see him next to her as her eyes stared vacantly up to the draped red, brocaded canopy above her. But after a long silence, Erik's words finally made their way into Christine's understanding, and she very slowly nodded her head, her pale hair rustling ever so slightly against the wickedly plush satin pillow. And even with that small movement, she could feel what was left of her energy draining away.

Erik traced the edge of her arm with a skeletal finger as he leaned against the coffin's rim. He turned his head and followed her gaze up—upwards to the draped ceiling. Upwards from below. "It is a lovely perspective, don't you think? You cannot get any lower...And there is only one way to look. Death may be a dark house...But it comes with an incredible view."


	7. The Lid and the Lie

**The Lid and the Lie**

Unconsciously, Christine's lips parted as if to speak, but whatever words that might have come were caught in her throat. A sudden realization flushed through her like a tremor and her eyes began to focus again. As if she were not alive—She was lying on her back inside a coffin! Red and black! The colors of blood and death! She sat up so suddenly, it made Erik think of a corpse reanimated by a bolt of lightening. But she did not seem to even be aware of him as she at once began to literally crawl out over the side of the deathbox.

He reached across and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back down. "Oh, no, Christine! I don't think so!" In a fumble of skirts and limbs, she fell back into her previous position as he continued to speak, his calm once again too quickly peeling away to the core of his rage, "Isn't it good enough for you? Well one day, you won't have a choice, you know! You will spend much more time in a coffin than you will ever spend _anywhere_ else! This is eternity, Christine!" He almost seemed to enjoy her struggling. "But perhaps this is not clear enough? Perhaps you need the full experience!"

She battled against him with all the strength she could summon. The nauseous fear pumped in her ears. She could hardly listen to what he was saying; her panic only let her understand one thing—Get away! She must get away! In near shrieks and sounding very clearly out of her mind, she cried in between gasps strangled by sobs, "Let go! Let go! Don't touch me! Leave me alone! Let me go!" She struck at Erik blindly with all her feeble power.

"Never!" He thrust her down forcefully with a blow that momentarily knocked the breath from her. He then moved away and turned to take up the casket's weighty lid from its resting place.

She had been released! Breath or no breath, she was not about to let the opportunity escape her and so scrambled over the coffin's side. But then— Oh, vile hesitation! The drop of the platform befuddled her for a pause of uncertainty and confusion that lasted just a moment too long.

The heavy, carved edge of the lid barely missed striking her as he swung it around. But she fell back by the force of Erik's cry alone:

"No one can escape eternity!"

She reached out and clutched at him tightly, twisting her fingers into the folds of his dress jacket, desperate for any way to keep from falling down into that box. "I don't want to stay in here! Please! Please don't—Don't make me...!"

He easily pried her hands from where she held him. "Death does not usually give us a choice, my dear." When she remained still and did not answer, he let go of her wrists.

Her eyes were focused on the void beyond him, and she was still only for the briefest moment. Then—Oh, not as roughly as before, but with the same amount of desperation—she fought for one final attempt of escape!

He forced her back down into the coffin for the last time and held her there as he slid the lid almost all the way over the opening, stopping only short of covering her face. "You will see, Christine...You will now witness firsthand what it is like to live and be dead."

She could not move her arms! Between the enclosed box and the tangles of her clothing, she was trapped! She pushed against the soft insides of the coffin—so much like the innards of the hard body of an unmerciful beast that meant to swallow her alive! "No! No! I don't want to see! Stop it!" And the way her eyes were so distant and unable to take in anything made them seem even wider...

Erik paused and leaned against the top of the lid to hold it in place while he looked down at her fear-stricken and grief-filled face. He asked with mocking tantalization, "You want me to stop?"

She begged softly but more intently than before as her vain movements began to grow feeble with hopelessness, "Stop...You must stop...Stop...!"

"All right, Christine..." His tone was almost apologetic... "All right...I won't close you in there in the dark...I'll stop."

She relaxed considerably, the tears ceasing to flow, and her movements slowly stilled. In relief, she breathed a long sigh that ended in a small sob. "Thank you..."

Erik nodded and tapped his fingertips on the surface of the black wood. "Of course, Christine, of course; it is my pleasure...There is only one thing, Christine, one thing...Do you know what that is?"

She shook her head slowly and very carefully shifted her eyes up to meet his. "...N-No..."

Erik stopped tapping as if caught by disappointment. "No, I don't suppose you would know...After all, I didn't know when you did it to me, did I?...The thing is, Christine...I am lying."

She blinked in confusion and stammered in a weak whisper, "I...I don't understand...Why are...How are you...?"

He leaned a little closer as if to confide a secret, his mask hovering just above her. "How? I shall tell you. I am lying because, although I just said that I would stop, I fully intend to close you up in this coffin." And then he drew back, his voice exploding around her, "Goodnight, Christine!"

Any relief Christine had embraced instantly evaporated, and her wracking sobs started afresh with sickened intensity. "Erik, no! Stop, please! I beg of you--Stop!" If only she could move! She tried every possible contortion to pull her arms from her sides to grip the lid! To reach that small opening over her face that was—getting smaller!

The sound of Erik's demonic laughter was the only response she received to her broken cries as he slid the coffin lid shut, closing it over her completely.

Then his voice pierced through the wood and was inside the box with her—a chilling cry, "Words mean nothing, do they, Christine? But you see now how they can bring death! All around you!"

She had gone very silent when the dark came, but it lasted only a moment or two before she began to scream again, shuffling and banging against the lid in absolute frantic hysteria.

Erik savored her screams in serene mirth as he flipped down the latches that would prevent her escape. Then he stood up and walked over to the organ where he snuffed out the candles that were still lit, casting the entire room into darkness. On his way to the door, his voice cut through Christine's screams one last time, "Sleep well tonight, my love! And be sure not to have any nightmares!" Then he left the room and closed the door behind him.

How she screamed! In all her horrifying experiences, Christine had never known such torturous panic! Trapped! Trapped in death! Doomed—Damned! And buried alive! Screaming—Screaming and choking! Strangling on her own tears and fluids! And so much blackness! The achluophobia was so omnipotent that her heartbeats became erratic. Soon the pounding in her ears that could be nothing short of the roaring of the fires of hell overtook even the shrillness of her shrieks. And then she saw the flashes of the flames before her eyes! Snapping bolts, white and red—Brilliant and frightening! Illuminating the darkness in and out of her mind! And the terror—The terror stretched on! Unrelenting even as she slipped into unmerciful unconsciousness.

But Erik was gone. And he did not return to mark her; so he did not know if she ever did fall asleep...But he was counting on it. Oh, he sincerely hoped for it. After all, he wanted Christine to know. To truly know—Just what it felt like to wake up—Inside of a coffin.


	8. The Awakening and the Dark

**The Awakening and the Dark**

Christine's unconsciousness eventually slipped into exhausted sleep. And during the time that she slept, Erik remained unaccounted for. Where had he gone? To continue to vent his rage elsewhere? To maim and murder Raoul as he had threatened? No...Not that he did not desire it. Oh, such desire! But all that really mattered was Christine. It was Christine who had knifed him so brutally...Shown him that there really was no trusting—No hope for truth in this, what was left for him. So what difference did it make? He let her sleep.

When Christine did awaken, hours later, she saw the darkness first. And she did not understand. This was not the darkness of night...No, her slowly wakening coherence sensed that much. It was an unnatural darkness. A darkness that was too dark. Or perhaps too natural. A voice of heavenly beauty and simultaneous hellish anger penetrated her memory:

_No one can escape eternity._

It was a voice she was so accustomed to hearing within her mind, that, for a moment she stirred almost in hope. But with the darkness, the silence pressed around her and she knew it was only her memory that spoke.

_Eternity..._

Death and eternity.

This was the eternal darkness of death!

But she knew she was not dead. She moved and felt the sides of the coffin. And she remembered. The shooting pain in her head was exquisite with each small shift of her body. A body that was stiff. And a chest that ached. The consequence of her shattering sobs and endless screams was this pain. Screams and sobs that had been consequence of fear and hysteria...Yes...And that terror...All that horror, the consequence of...what?

She suddenly became aware that there was a ring on her finger. Betrayal? She could not know how or why she realized this, but it was there. Deception? She could feel it. Shame? And with the slightest curl of her hand and brush of her thumb, she felt the sharp corners of the ruby...The stone rightfully red.

So broken, she felt! She wanted to give way to crying...But she could not. The aching was too sharp. Even her smallest whimpers resulted in gasps of pain. Gasps that resulted in tears. Tears to pain to tears to pain to tears...

And so she lied. And she knew. She knew what it was like to live and be dead. And there was nothing to do...But give way to eternity.

During this time, Erik was unaware that she was awake.

Time slipped past...Slowly, it seemed, though Christine had no way to mark it. Sometimes she could hear her heartbeat...But then the throbbing in her head would overpower it. So this is how she would spend eternity. The saints singing mourning hymns to her own internal metronome. But...She was not dead! And somehow, she knew this. Through even the darkness of death, she could sense it! She would not let herself be lost! It took time...Seemingly endless time...But she gathered the strength...And drew her breath...And screamed!

Upon hearing the scream from the other room, Erik marked it with approbation. Never had he heard such a scream more fitting to be coming from within a locked coffin. The wail of a ghoul from the grave calling to the corpses to come to her aid. Well there was only one corpse in this tomb. Erik would come.

Inside the coffin, the air was close and the oxygen was thin. Christine had to choke through a few breaths before she could take in enough to scream again. And as she struggled to allow a breath into her trembling and aching chest for a third cry, she began to understand that there would indeed be a limited number to these gasps. So be it. If she could not escape eternity, then eternity must not have her quietly.

She managed to unwork her hands from where they were trapped and pushed up on the lid of the box that covered her. The sounds of her frantic beating fists mixed with those of her cries were loud enough within her confine that she could not hear Erik enter the room. And she did not hear him unclip the latches on the lid, remaining completely unaware of any change until suddenly the lid above her actually yielded to her efforts. Oh, it was the smallest of lifts and the cover immediately settled back into place, but the abrupt effect surprised her and she stopped moving.

And then he was inside the coffin with her. Not in body—But in voice and presence:

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Christine."

Her breaths were heavy...Each one creating new pain in her very lungs. But he could not stop her! She had moved it! Her weak limbs began to push against the heavy lid again with fresh assurance, using all the strength that remained!

The lid rose! And slid!—But oh! So very little before it fell again, and her voice cracked with frustrated sobs.

Erik's presence remained. "Come now, is that the best you can do?"

Christine gasped for air. She felt weaker and weaker as each breath became more and more shallow. But she managed the power to cry between gasps, "Erik...Erik, _please_...!"

Erik answered with torturous indolence, "Please what, Christine?"

If it were possible, Christine was certain the darkness was growing blacker. It seemed as if what she attempted to breathe was not even air anymore but some thick black velvet that choked and suffocated her. "Please...Let me out...Open the lid..."

Again, he drew out his response, "If I let you out, what will you do in exchange?"

Christine took a moment to answer as she coughed weakly. "Anything...Anything, Erik..."

"Are you lying to me?" The question was asked almost too simply.

Christine felt a strange, soft sensation spreading through her body towards her brain. It reminded her of the dull, white feeling that comes just as one is about to faint...Only this feeling was black...Very black. Her words sounded far away to her, "Please...Please...I can't breathe, Erik..."

"Answer me." His voice cut through the haze like light that did not exist.

"No..." she answered, only barely hearing herself. "No, I'm not lying..."

His voice abruptly slipped back out into the universe beyond the walls of the coffin. "Good."

Christine could only hear as the lid slid back with a glide of effortless ease. Polished wood against polished wood. The darkness remained. The wash of cool air against her face and into her lungs whispered to her senses in lovely deep breaths that she was no longer enclosed, but her eyes only told the same black story they had seen since she had awoken.

Her hands, weak and trembling, felt for the sides of the box. She felt that the lid had not been completely removed, but it was enough. She climbed out completely very quickly despite her lightheadedness, but could not keep from stumbling in the dark as she tried to dismount the platform. She reached out and for a moment felt in vain for something to support her, but then gave up the effort and relied only on herself. She took another moment to even her breath and then addressed the dark, which had been strangely patient through all this:

"Erik...Where is the door...I want...I want to go to my room..."

His voice floated out to her from somewhere in that dark. "Are you so sure there is a door, Christine?"

She had to sit down. Even the floor would suit her at this moment. Her head was swimming. "Erik...Stop this...Please stop it...I'll do anything you wish, if you only let me out..."

His voice came from directly behind her. "Why do you want to get out so badly? This is just a room...A room like any other room. Four walls, a ceiling, a floor..."

She turned quickly and looked in the direction of his voice, but all was lost in the blackness. "I can't see...I can't see anything..." Searching for him was hopeless. She was trapped...Just as trapped. "It's still dark...It's like I'm still in the coffin. Please, Erik!"

"Life is a coffin, Christine."

She did not want to hear him speak this way! Not when she couldn't see him! Not when she knew the tricks his voice could play. "Please, Erik...Put on a light; at least put on a light..."

It was almost as if the air around her sighed as his voice came again, "What is the difference, Christine? To blind men, the entire world is blacker than this. Why is seeing so important to you?"

Christine fought back the tears in her useless eyes. "Blind men are used to it, Erik, and they do not have a choice!"

"Neither do you, it seems. How do you know that you have not gone blind now?"

"Because...Because, I..." Erik's point had been made. Trembling heavily, she pressed her hands over her eyes and did not speak to him again. Useless for seeing, but fully functional for crying, her eyes overflowed with burning tears. Her sobs were soft and the half-senseless pleas for help choked under her breath: "...Raoul...Father..."

Erik heard. But though his words were not comforting, nor did his voice rise, "No one can hear you anymore, Christine...As blind as you are to the world, the world is deaf to you."

So then there was nothing. She had lost...Lost...She burst through and cried out to him in dreadful agony, "Then I want you to put me back into that coffin, Erik!" She moaned in defeat, "If I am so apart from the world now..."

"You are apart from the world, Christine." He paused only briefly and then, for the first time, his words were almost tender... "But do not forget that you are not alone."

But Christine shook her head and covered her face in her hands. Her small voice escaped between her fingers. "I feel as though I am alone...That I am all alone..."

Erik clenched his jaw in a moment of silent resistance against the sting of the insinuation of her words, and then said coldly, "I am sure you do."

She continued quietly, speaking to herself as if she had not heard him, "You left me...You left me all alone...All alone in the coffin..."

His sharp laugh clipped through her whisper. "Would you rather I had joined you?"

The question startled Christine into attention. She was fairly shocked by his words, but despite their sarcastic touch, she actually gave them a few moments' flushed and silent consideration...And then she answered...So incredibly softly:

"Much more than being alone."


	9. The Light and the Nothing

**The Light and the Nothing**

_...Silence..._

_...Darkness..._

Time was immeasurable...Like ripples in a pool that eventually disappear when so long has passed, Christine's words faded away, back into the black nothing from whence they had come...As if they had never existed. What are words spoken if they are not heard? And if such words are spoken and the listener does not respond—Behaves as if he were not there to hear them... Do they matter? Did they exist?

Perhaps Erik was just simply giving them that much thought. Perhaps he was thinking about something else entirely. Or perhaps he was only toying with her mind. But whatever it was, there had been an adjustment. A difference had been made. Something made him change his mind.

The silence that pressed in on Christine as she pitifully resolved herself to her fate of darkness during this time was broken by the smallest scratch of sound that seemed earsplitting in comparison—But even more startling was the light. It took her several moments to understand that Erik had lit a single candle on the other side of the room. She could see him over there...between the fingers that she still had pressed over her eyes...And he was simply standing there, turned away from her and watching the flame.

She did not speak as she moved her hands from her face and smoothed back her damped hair. With shaking hesitation, she slowly looked about the edges of the dark for any sort of way out of the room... But Erik's room was as it had always been—There was no door. And it was still so dark... As dark as a funeral chamber five levels below ground ought to be.

But Christine was not about to take for granted the illumination he had granted her, and she was still much comforted by that one candle. From where she still kneeled on the floor, she edged closer to the circle of light and away from the black looming shape of the coffin behind her in the outer darkness. She turned her eyes back to Erik where he stood, still intently focused on the tiny flame above the black wax.

Why was he so still?

Her hands were shaking and she felt pinpricks of sensation come back into her drained limbs in this calmness. Her flesh was slowly coming to life out of the numbness that had claimed her, and the ache in her chest was spreading, distributing its intensity throughout the rest of her body.

She was sitting still again, and fighting her apprehension to disturb the very motionlessness of the air, she brushed one trembling hand across her face.

Erik remained in the small area of radiance, but drew his eyes from the engrossing light and slowly turned his head to instead focus on Christine with the same intensity.

She could not meet his gaze and lowered her forehead to rest above her knees, curling into a pathetic ball of tresses and silk. What did he want from her? What would she have to give him in return for letting her out of that coffin... She had promised to do anything he wished...Anything in exchange...Anything to be released. But she knew only too well that in exchange for being released from that temporary prison, she was now most eternally trapped. What would he do with her? What did he want from her?

He lifted the candlestick from where it stood with a delicate grace that was almost sickening in its irony, and he moved towards her...Steadily... And as he moved, the flame above the wax wavered in the lifeless air.

She sensed his movement and looked up with dull recognition. He was coming closer. She only distantly wondered at herself as she did not move away, did not shrink back as she waited truly without dread for what he might say...What he might do...What he might take. Her gaze dropped, and she watched the shine of the light on the merlot carpet glow closer and closer...And she waited for him.

His feet appeared and halted just below her downcast eyes, but he made no further move other than to lower the candle so that it was right in front of her face. He merely let the light illuminate her features for several moments of a silence that progressively drilled into her anxiety. Her breath quickened with each passing beat and she silently fretted that she might again begin to shake.

He indicated the flickering light and in a low tone, he spoke, "Do not breathe too heavily...Or you shall be in the dark again."

Christine lifted her shoulders and pressed her lips together, immediately softening her breaths. For a moment of vulnerability, her eyes flitted from the candle up to his in the darkness above her. She was still afraid. She could not deny it. So afraid...And she did not understand...

With slow and gentle deliberation, Erik knelt down before her so that their eyes were at the same level. The candle was the only thing in the space between his mask and her face, and its flame danced gently between the current of their two breaths.

He spoke again with the same softness. "I had better not breathe either..." And then again with deliberate poignancy, "But I do not mind the dark." The flame shuddered dangerously.

A moment of fear—Christine did not breathe at all...But the light did not go out. She stared across the candlelight at Erik. At his golden eyes set afire by the blaze in front of them...So unbearably eerie. But she could not tear her own eyes away. She kept her breath soft, terrified of blowing out the candle and once again allowing the darkness to descend.

He seemed to float closer to her, tightening the space between them and bringing the fire dangerously near to her face now. "Be careful, Christine," he whispered. "Do not move. Light may be relieving...But it brings pain. Relief is burning, Christine. It burns."

She did as she was told and remained frozen, staring at the flame in silence...Practically holding her breath now...Not daring to take her eyes off of it...

Erik was equally silent as he slowly lifted his hand between them as if in preparation to put out the flame.

Christine's eyes widened in initial fear of the prospect of losing the light, but she made no move to stop him and spoke no word of protest. Truly, she was not sure if she was more frightened by that prospect of darkness or by the alarmingly close proximity of the flame so near to her face...Its warmth was beginning to become difficult to bear as it radiated into her skin.

Erik's hand paused in the air and hovered, a wraithlike shadow just above the flame. He spoke again. He was giving her more time...But what could she do?

"The light can be as frightening as the dark, Christine...You can see...But at a price..." The heat of the fire pulsated tormentingly against her flesh, as he continued, "In the cold of the dark, there is nothing to harm you..." Then he moved the flame even closer to her face. "But I will leave this choice up to you. What will you have?"

Her eyes flitted to him and then back again to the candle. What could she do? She feared that if she chose the light, he would move it close enough to burn her. But she did not want to be in the dark again...She could not be in the dark again! And so alone. Her wary whisper was almost inaudible. "I am always left by myself...In the dark..."

Erik's eyes watched the flame as it flickered back and then closer to her when she spoke. "Hush...Be careful..." Contrastingly, his melodious voice did nothing to disrupt the sway of the fire. "Always, Christine?"

She was hesitant even to speak less her utterances waver the flame any closer...And with a shudder of restraint, she realized now that the only thing she was afraid of was being burned by this flame. So she shut her eyes slowly...Hesitated one final time...Then made her choice and blew out the light.

_...Darkness..._

Erik lowered the quieted candle from between their faces, but he did not move away. And even though the danger was gone, his voice remained just as cautious. "It is dark, Christine...Are you alone?"

She could not see him. But heard him...So close...And she also did not move away. She did not _want_ to be alone. Her answer was a soft realization, "No..."

Erik set the dead candlestick down on the floor beside where they knelt. His words were even softer, but they held a quiet, firm resolve...A finality:

"No...And you will never be alone."

Christine's gaze fell blindly. It did not matter where she looked. In the dark, everything looked the same. But even as she tried to dread the fact that she could not see, she truly felt that this—This was better than a coffin...And that thought gave her a wash of consolation.

Erik continued, "Even if nothing existed outside of this room, you would never be alone, Christine."

She felt his voice; it wrapped itself around through her mind and heart. He was there. And she knew it. She knew she was not alone.

She nodded slowly and clasped her hands together tightly in struck silence, exhaling shakily before speaking. "...Thank you, Erik."

Regardless of all that he had done, through all her tangled thoughts and aching pain, she truly felt it—That with him, she was not alone.

Touching her in a way that was somehow curiously suitable, he settled his hands on her arms, lightly—With the downy comfort of wings. He spoke with conviction, "But you know what Nothing means now. And Nothing exists outside. Nothing that matters."

And somewhere in the mind that had once belonged to her, the muted recognition of his touch registered. But it was so dark... And even her mind's eye could not keep its focus. She slowly tilted her face up in the direction where his must be. And she gave him no initial answer. But there was something...In that voice of his...That made her once again nod her head in absolute agreement.

Even Erik's cat eyes could not see the lost child in this dark, but he was close. So close that he could feel each and all of her slight movement.

_...Silence..._

_...Darkness..._

His cold hands glided down her arms to take hold of her lonely fingers in an enveloping fold as he spoke his last words, "Absolutely nothing."

_...Darkness..._

_...Silence..._

And somehow she simply felt it...She knew what to say...She knew how to agree. She would show him that she understood. She was not alone. With Erik, Christine would never be alone. And nothing else mattered.

"Nothing, Erik...Nothing."

* * *

**_The End._**


End file.
